The Austen Effect
by Caisele
Summary: She's got the pride and he's got the prejudice. He's also got a knife in his belt and a bong under his bed, and she's got a flask of vodka tucked into her bra and Ron's arm around her neck. But somehow it works out. DMHG.
1. Booze Run

_Note:_ Since the kids get wasted on the weekends, have sex in broom closets, and chain smoke outside of Hogs Head, I'd say this story is probably AU.

Rated M for sexual content, language, violence and...excessive drinking?

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**THE AUSTEN EFFECT by: Caisele**

**Booze Run**

"Go, Harry, go, go."

"Shh, Ron!"

Footsteps. "Shit, Hermione get down!"

Hermione ducks behind a crate the size of a hippogriff and Ron turns to dive beside Harry. There's a moment of silence.

"False alarm," Harry says cheerily. Ron groans. "Fuck, I skinned my knee."

Harry grins and points up. "Let's go."

Hermione dusts off her skirt and sticks her head out from behind the crate. "We can't all go," she hisses. "The less people the smaller the chance of getting caught. And it really doesn't take all three of us to nab a bag of candy."

"Who said we're only getting one bag?" Ron huffs.

"First," Harry says sternly, "it's not nabbing if we're paying for it. Second, if you can slip our money into the cash while me and Ron grab the sweets we can save time and get out of here faster."

Hermione bites her lip nervously as she thinks it over. "Fine," she says eventually. "Pass me your wallet, Ron. Okay. I only want the truffles. Get me three of the caramel roses, five hazelnut coca bombs, and one of the round dark chocolate kind with the giant almond in the middle...and two orange creams."

Harry raises an eyebrow. Ron's jaw drops.

"What?" Hermione shuffles her feet, "I'm craving chocolate."

Ron shakes his head and says nothing. He leads the way up the stairs.

Honeydukes is dark. The shop has closed up for the day. With autumn coming to an end and winter just around the corner the inky night seems to swallow up the afternoons faster and faster each day. It's only seven, but it looks like it's already midnight outside.

Hermione tiptoes to the money drawer behind the counter and counts out the sickles and knuts. They've done this so many times that she's memorized the prices for every sweet in the shop by now. Just as she slides the drawer close she hears the floorboards creak behind her. She jumps.

It's only Ron.

Hermione glares at him. "Don't sneak up on me like that." Ron grins lopsidedly at her, holding up a lumpy paper bag. Hermione makes a grab for it. Ron lifts it out of her reach. She swats at him, standing on her toes. His grin widens and he lifts his arm higher. Hermione looses her balance and falls against him. Ron wraps his arm around her.

"Shh!" Harry appears, loaded down with lumpy bags of his own.

"Ron, give me my truffles!"

Ron snorts as Hermione tries to climb on top of the counter. "Nice underwear," he says. Hermione makes a small embarrassed sound and tugs down her skirt.

"Just give her the truffles, Ron," Harry says as Ron reaches over to flick Hermione on the leg. "Y'know what," Ron says to Harry, "the post office is still open. We can sneak into their Floo hall and go to Diagon Alley."

"For what?" Hermione asks absent-mindedly as Ron shoves her playfully, trying to make her fall off the counter.

"We can get booze for the party this weekend. If we go on Friday there'd be too many people."

"Okay."

Harry leaves his bags of sweets on the counter and goes around the shelves to look for something to prop the door open with so they can get back into Honeydukes later.

Ron succeeds and Hermione tumbles off the counter with a squeal, crashing right into him. Ron falls backwards, smothering back a laugh. Hermione ends up straddling Ron's leg, giggling into his neck as he hugs her around the waist. "Ow," Hermione whispers, "Your zipper is digging into my leg."

Ron sniggers. "That's not my zipper."

Hermione tries to scowl at him but it comes out as a grin. It's true. There's something hard pressing against her thigh that's definitely not a zipper, but that's not what she's talking about. "I'm serious," she says, pushing Ron away. Ron's fingers slide up her skirt. "Oh, crap," he looks down. "Your stocking is caught on my zipper."

Hermione punches him on the arm. "See, I told you."

"Here, I'll do it." Ron reaches down and tugs at the edge of her stockings, his thumb jerking upwards, brushing the bare skin of her inner thigh in a way that's all too intentional. Hermione widens her eyes at him. "Ron!"

He grins back at her cheekily. Hermione hears Harry coming nearer and pushes herself off Ron, blushing pink. Since Ron's mumbled confession at the end of summer they've been stealing kisses and touches here and there. They've never gotten any further than quick fumbling, his eager hands on her bra and her awkward writhing at the feeling of the hard edges of his belt buckle tearing a hole into the lacy hems of her panties. With Ginny nosing around, Harry always up to something and dragging them somewhere, and Fred and George being, well, Fred and George, Ron and Hermione have never really found a chance to be alone together. But Hermione doesn't mind.

She gives Ron a warning glare as he moves towards her. Ron raises his hands, innocent. Hermione peeks over the counter. "Harry! There should be a wooden block of some kind near the lollipop shelf," she whispers, "I've seen them use it to jam the door open in the summer– Ron!"

He flicked her skirt up with deft fingers. Hermione slaps him lightly, feigning indignant, as he pulls down her stocking and strokes her bare thigh. "Don't," Hermione says, as Ron leans in to kiss her.

"Harry is–"

"He's on the other side of the store," Ron says impatiently. He presses his lips to hers and his fingers find the swell of her buttocks.

Hermione breaks the kiss and slaps Ron again, harder this time. "I said no, Ron. Honestly, sometimes you're so damn–"

"Found it!" Harry hisses triumphantly in the dark.

Hermione stands up.

"Let's go, come on!" Harry urges from where he's crouching by the door. Ron grumbles something under his breath and hauls himself to his feet, reaching at Hermione for balance. She brushes him off. "Don't touch me," she snaps. Ron snorts. "Here we go again," he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for Hermione to hear.

Hermione ignores him, wrapping her arms around her body as she braces herself for the cold. None of them have brought a jacket. The wind stings a little. Hermione hopes that it won't rain. She pulls up her stocking. They make a run for the post office.

Harry takes his invisibility cloak out of his pocket and throws it over himself before opening the post office door a sliver, enough for him to slip inside but not enough for the porter to look up in suspicion. Ron and Hermione go around to the side, standing silently under a small dark window.

Minutes pass.

Ron shrugs off his sweater and holds it towards Hermione. She looks up at him. "I'm sorry," Ron says. He looks so uncomfortable that Hermione has to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from grinning. "It's alright," she says, sounding gentler than she intended, and drapes the sweater around her shoulders.

Ron's sweaters are either hand-me-downs or knitted by Mrs. Weasley. In either case they tend to be too big on him since his brothers are all bigger and bulkier and Mrs. Weasley likes to leave him of space to grow into things. On Hermione, the sweater hangs down to her knees.

Ron gives her his lopsided grin. Hermione smiles back before she can catch herself. Then the window above them swings open. Harry's disembodied head peers out. "Hurry!" he urges, "We only got two hours. One and a half, actually, before the post office closes." He disappears back into the window. Ron gives Hermione a leg up to the window. He couldn't resist patting her smartly on the butt as she slips through. Hermione rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything. Ron hauls himself up after her.

Harry is standing in front of one of the many fireplaces, his invisibility cloak still wrapped around his shoulders. "Harry," Ron says, "take the cloak off or put it on properly. It creeps me out when you're nothing but a floating head."

Harry grins at Ron. "Sorry, mate."

Hermione has already got her Floo power and is stepping into the fireplace. "Go to Wizwreck," Ron tells her, "the sales witches there are usually too baked to notice a couple of kids popping out of their fireplace."

Harry laughs. It's the last thing Hermione hears before she's engulfed by the green flames.

She staggers out of the Wizwreck fireplace seconds before Ron appears. They don't wait long for Harry, who tumbles out a minute later.

Wizwreck is a new store in Diagon Alley. It's part of a chain of fashionable boutiques that first became popular in France. Infamous for its wide range of studded black leather items, whale-bone corsets, spiked jewellery, and macabre decor, the store quickly became that place where black clad youth chain smoked by the door and parents dragged their protesting children past, gritting their teeth and glaring daggers at the heavily pierced sales witches through the graffitied window.

Needless to say, Hermione has never set foot into the store before today. She weaves through the racks of clothes, ogling at the jeans barely held together by safety pins, assortments of enormous Egyptian-themed rings, and a curious set of necklaces, from each of which dangles a dozen or so shrunken heads. Behind her Ron and Harry are debating whether they should go to the brightly lit Pans Wines & Spirits up the street or the dingy Jinx Drinks at the mouth of Knockturn Alley.

As Hermione examines a collection of scaly-looking belts she hears a high-pitched titter that reminds her very strongly of Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil bent over the day's horoscopes. Hermione steps out from behind the high black racks and into the aisle.

Right into Draco Malfoy's chest.

"Sor- oh, _Granger_."

Hermione rolls her eyes at the sneer in his voice. Fucking Malfoy.

He's looking down at her with one eyebrow raised and his nose all wrinkled up like he just stepped in dwarf shit. His ugly hair is slicked back as usual and he's thrown his cloak over one shoulder, sleeves rolled up, showing off that stupid basilisk tattoo of his. It's stupid because Harry says basilisks don't have feathers...or wear crowns.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione matches his sneer with one of her own. He's probably buying another one of those tiresome Union Jack shirts to add to his endless stash, or maybe one of those tight leather bondage pants that don't flatter anyone. It really isn't surprising that he's the type to sneak off school property after curfew for a shopping spree.

Malfoy smirks Hermione with a mix of disgust and mirth. "I'm a prefect," he says righteously, as if it matters.

"And whose ass did you have to lick for that, I wonder." Harry's shoulder brushes against Hermione's as he steps out in front of her. Ron's hand comes to rest on her hip, protective. Hermione shakes him off.

Malfoy's sneer is replaced by the look of pure loathing he reserves only for Harry, and in the dim light of Wizwreck it looks almost mask-like. Something clatters to the ground behind Malfoy.

Hermione's glance flickers to the side. She eyes the lumbering figures of Crabbe and Goyle behind Malfoy, crossing her arms. Of course _they_'d be here too. Having grown out of binge-eating their frustration away the pair of gorillas learned in recent years to be bothersome and vehement in other ways. Let's just say that if they were Muggles they'd have white power slogans tattooed on their foreheads and swastikas shaved onto their hair.

Normally, Harry and Ron would be delighted to have an opportunity to antagonize Malfoy and his pet goons, just so there'd be a reason to start something, but not tonight.

"We've only got till ten," Hermione says under her breath. Harry hesitates for a minute before loosening his hold on the wand in his jean pocket. Hermione pushes past Malfoy. "Excuse us," she says stiffly, leading the way to the door. Harry and Ron follows. Goyle snarls at her as she passes. Crabbe sticks out his foot to trip her. Hermione sidesteps him. Crabbe makes a noise deep in his throat and slams his shoulder into her.

Hermione is thrown sideways. She crashes into a sales rack and a stack of snakeskin trench barely breaks her fall. She hears Ron's thunderous roar, the splintering of wood and the clip-clop of the sales witches' heels as they hurry over in panic.

"Nice underwear," Malfoy drawls. Hermione flushes red and sits up, smoothing down her skirt. Ron has his hands around Crabbe's neck and Malfoy has his wand out, the tip of which is digging into Ron's temple. Goyle is sprawled on the ground, his broken wand beside him. Harry has got the back of Malfoy's shirt bunched up in one hand, and the other is curled into a fist, poised above Malfoy's head.

"No brawling in the store," a sales witch says in a small voice. The boys let go of each other rather reluctantly. "Watch yourself," Harry growls at Malfoy, who sneers in return.

Ron reaches Hermione first. "Baby, you okay?"

Malfoy snorts derisively. Ron's head jerks in his direction. "Shut your trap, asshole, I'll fucking kill you. 'Mione, baby, here..."

Hermione ignores Ron's outstretched hand. "I'm fine," she says quickly, almost rudely, as she stands. Without a backward glance, she lets herself out the door muttering an apology when she passes the harassed-looking sales witches.

"Hermione!" Harry calls after her.

"We'll just go to Jinx Drinks," Hermione says over her shoulder. "It'll be faster there."

"I'll rip him to pieces," Ron grumbles to himself, stomping his feet loudly as he walks, "I'll kick the shit out of him–"

"Hermione–"

"I said I'm fine, Harry," Hermione speeds down the cobblestone steps leading to a dank little cellar of the liquor store. Harry gives Hermione a long searching look before he turns to knock on the door. "I'll go, I've got money. You guys stay here on lookout for anyone we might know." Then the Jinx Drink hag opens the door and Harry slips inside.

Hermione leans against the wall. Ron cups her cheek and leans in. Hermione turns away. "Stop it."

"We'll get him back," Ron says fiercely, pressing a hot lingering kiss to her neck. Hermione sighs. "You're an idiot, Ron, a complete moron."

Ron grins and catches her mouth with his. With one hand he pins her to the wall, with the other he squeezes her breast. Hermione groans in complaint, hands pushing at his chest. Ron slides one knee between hers, parting her legs. He leaves her gasping for breath, head spinning.

"Ron, no," she whispers. But Ron's already got his hands in her skirt. "Don't worry," he tells her, "no one's looking."

Hermione bites her lip as Ron's fingers press against her panties, rubbing. "Not here," she protests. Ron's warm breath sends goosebumps down her arms. His eyes turn a shade darker, feverish, as he presses his groin against her. "I want this," he says quietly.

"I know," Hermione puts her arms around his neck and pulls him close.

Ron smiles against her lips. "At the party," he says.

"Mm?"

"Let's do it at the party on Sunday," Ron says. There's a determined glint to his gaze. Hermione's heart is hammering in her chest. "At the party," she echoes.

"Yeah," Ron looks back in the direction of Wizwreck. "Right after I pummel Malfoy to the ground, let's do it."

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I don't bother with British slang 'cause I don't want to sound like an idiot if I use them wrong. So please bear with me.

Also, I need a beta. Message me if interested.


	2. The Shack

**THE AUSTEN EFFECT by: Caisele**

**The Shack**

The music is pounding. Too loud. Hermione pushes her way through the crowd. She can see Fred and George dancing madly atop the speakers, high above the crowd. Their wands are lit, and as they wave them around they leave odd lingering trails of light in the dark that makes Hermione feel odd and light-headed. Hermione treads slowly along the edge of the vegetable patch where the silencing charm ends, taking care to stepping over the short stalks of tomatoes.

She regrets opting for the spider silk stockings over her warmer thigh-highs. It's freezing out tonight, there's even a bit of a drizzle. Hermione hopes it wouldn't turn into a full-out storm.

She's been looking for Ron for the past hour, but she just couldn't seem to spot him in the crowd. Then Pavarti tells her that Ron is dancing with Lavender, and Hermione just decided to give up then. She's not a jealous person by nature. She's not. She's sure she's not. But Lavender…

Hermione sees wisps of Ginny's long red hair twirling among the revelers, and heads in her direction. The cold is more biting as Hermione slips farther away from the heat of the crowd.

Ginny is standing with Malfoy and his gorillas.

Hermione's steps quicken before she's even fully processed the scene in her head.

Malfoy says something. Ginny hits him. Malfoy's head snaps to the side. Ginny turns away. Malfoy has a warning glint in his eyes. Crabbe makes a grab at Ginny. Hermione's fingers close around her wand.

Then someone stomps past Hermione, shouldering her aside. Hermione stumbles and catches herself before she falls. It's Harry. His wand is out and pointing at Malfoy's head.

Hermione hesitates for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then Malfoy looks up and meets her eye. It's then that Hermione realizes the music has stopped. In the absence of the pounding bass Hermione's ears begin to ring. Malfoy's icy grey eyes flicker sideways, looking past her, his expression unreadable. Hermione turns to follow his gaze. Ron is running towards them, hair wild, flushed. He's yelling something, but he's drowned out by Dean Thomas's shrill cry, piercing though the sudden and overwhelming silence left in the wake of the music, "McGonagall! McGonagall! Run!"

Pandemonium ensues.

The dancing crowd begins to scatter. The kids flee in every direction, some run past her, jostling her, panicking. Hermione sees George falling sideways off his perch and Fred jumping into the thinning crowd. Then she spots the flash of McGonagall's spectacles, catching the moonlight.

At that moment, everything seems to slow down. Blackness slips into the edges of Hermione's vision as she whips around, running towards Harry, pulling her wand out as she goes. She takes an aim at Harry just as he opens his mouth to jinx Malfoy into a pulp. Hermione levitates Harry's wand from the grasp of his fingers just in time. Ginny breaks away, running for the cover of the Forbidden Forest, and Crabbe and Goyle lope away to the greenhouses. In the background the drunken crowd has taken up the cry, "Run! Run! Run!" and Hermione thinks she hears Snape's lowly roar.

Harry looks up at his hovering wand, confused for a second. Malfoy raises his own wand. Harry recovers by throwing a punch at him. Malfoy staggers backwards and his half-formed spell goes wayward, hitting Hermione on the arm, blasting her wand from her hand.

Harry punches Malfoy again, a perfect uppercut. Malfoy falls and Harry pounces. Hermione sees blood. Malfoy kicks at Harry. Harry tumbles off and Malfoy rolls away, stumbling up and darting into the Forest. Harry chases after him.

Hermione looks back at Ron, who stares back at her, eyes wide. "Go!" he shouts. Hermione turns and sprints after Harry, deep into the shadows of the jagged trees.

Ron overtakes Hermione as she trips over a root. Hermione steadies herself, her palm slams into a thick trunk of a maple. Her leather skirt is tight around her legs and she tugs it up so she can run faster. She catches up to Ron and Harry quickly. The boys are crouched on a fallen log, panting and red-faced from the run.

"Lost him," Harry tells her, surly.

Hermione scowls at him. "The teachers have come to break up the party. They'll be prowling the Forest soon, looking for stragglers," she pauses, "I think I heard Snape."

"Aw, shit," Ron groans. "If Snape finds us we'd be done for, since he's probably still mad over our little Veritaserum accident."

Harry sighs and looks up at Hermione. "Sorry."

Ron thumps him on the back. "At least you got a couple of good punches in. What did Malfoy do anyway?"

Harry's eyes flash angrily. "Him and Crabbe were harassing Ginny."

"What?" Ron snarls. "Fuck, I'll fucking kill him, I'll–"

Harry leaps up suddenly and clamps his hand over Ron's mouth. Hermione ducks instinctively. "What?" she mouths at Harry. Harry pushes them down behind a row of undergrowth. "Snape," he mouths back.

Ron tenses. Hermione hears slow, careful footsteps and the crunch of wet leaves. Shit.

Snape's footsteps inch closer, Hermione ducks lower, trying her best to look like an overgrown toadstool. Harry and Ron flatten themselves against the mossy log. In the light of Snape's wand Hermione looks up. She can see the point of his nose. Hermione grimaces. They're gonna be in _so_ much trouble.

_Crack_.

Snape's head swivels to the side, looking like a monstrous bird with his beaky nose. Then he turns, slowly, his back to Hermione, Ron, and Harry, sharp eyes scanning the dark trees where the sound came from.

Hermione's ears perk up. She hears the crunching of leaves.

Snape leaps forward, snarling. "Finnigan! Longbottom! _Locomotor Mortis_!"

Seamus lets out a yelp as he crashes onto the ground. "Good going, Neville," he says peevishly.

Harry takes full advantage of Snape's temporary distraction. He grabs Ron and Hermione and they bolt into the forest.

"Potter!" Snape yells after them.

A jinx whizzes by. "Snape's following us," Hermione wheezes.

"Whomping Willow," Harry replies, breathing hard as they hurtle over a jumble of low bushes, "then Shrieking Shack, then the post office-"

"-then we'll be back in the Gryffindor tower by floo," Hermione finishes, panting.

"Exactly," Harry huffs.

When they come upon the Whomping Willow it takes Ron two tries to prod the tree's knot with a levitated stick while Hermione wrings her hands impatiently, wishing that she and Harry still had their wands. When the Willow is immobilized Hermione pushes the boys into the gap in the roots, then slides down after them. They follow the passage at a half-run. Harry stops suddenly. Ron runs smack into him and they tumble onto the ground.

"Get off, Harry," Ron groans. "Why'd you stop?

"Did you hear that?" Harry asks sharply.

Hermione steps over Ron, leaning nervously against the tunnel walls. "Hear what?"

From behind them a low _thud_ echoes down the passage.

Ron blanches. "Snape!"

Harry curses colorfully and they scramble to their feet, running as fast as they can in the limited space they have until they reach the Shrieking Shack. "Now what?" Ron demands, his wand pointed at the tunnel entrance warily.

The rush of adrenaline from the mad sprint is making Hermione's hands tremble. "We should split up," she says, "since Snape probably doesn't know the Shack as well as we do."

"I dunno," Ron says dubiously, "I can kind of see him holed up in here on his days off, sniffing lines of Moondust off the edge of the bathtub."

Harry cracks a smile. Hermione makes a face. "Snape would never sniff Moondust, he's a teacher, not Fred."

Ron looks mildly affronted. "Fred's never touched Moondust; he's strictly an herbal man."

Harry cuts in as Hermione opens her mouth to retort. "Okay, so we'll split up. I'll go out front, Ron can climb out the cellar window, and Hermione, you can go 'round the back door. We meet up back at Gryffindor Tower."

"Alright, go, go, go!" Ron says.

The boys climb over the table blocking the door and disappear into the hallway. Hermione hitches up her skirt and hoists herself up after them.

Just then, a spell flies out from the tunnel entrance behind her. Hermione manages not to scream. The spell hits the table and it begins to grow, creaking all the while, until the tabletop is wedged right up against the ceiling and the doorway is blocked.

Hermione backs up against the wall, eye sweeping frantically around the room, looking for another way out even though she knows there isn't any. Her mind races. At least she can distract Snape long enough that he won't be able to go after Harry and Ron.

But the person who staggers out of the tunnel isn't Snape.

It's Malfoy.

He's bleeding from his head and the blood has matted his hair, making it stick up in dishevelled clumps. He has his wand out, pointed shakily at Hermione. His leather pants are mud-splattered and he has scratches all over his arms. His face looks odd, cheeks bruised, lip swollen, nose scrunched up in pain...or disgust. In the dim light he looks like a zombie. His deliberately ragged Wizwreck clothes only add to the effect.

Malfoy takes a step forward, and sways. He braces himself against a nearby chair. Hermione glowers at him, until he looks away. She trains her eyes on his wand while his silver eyes survey the room.

"So where have Potter and Weasley gone?" Malfoy sneers.

Hermione spots a dusty bottle of Firewhiskey on the ground. She inches towards it when Malfoy isn't looking.

"Have they run off screaming like little...little..." Malfoy trails off weakly as he wobbles on his feet. He plops down on a chair, wand pointed at Hermione all the while, and raises his spare hand to his head. His eyes darken when he sees the blood on his fingers.

He glares at Hermione. "Take off your shirt."

Hermione flushes red. "What?"

Malfoy flicks his wand. A jet of light blasts a crater into the wall, missing Hermione by an inch. Hermione swallows her surprised squeal, turning to gape at the scorch marks on the peeling wallpaper. "You wouldn't dare," she hisses at Malfoy.

"Give me your fucking shirt, Granger!" Malfoy yells.

Hermione eyes the wand in his outstretched hand. Malfoy is hurt and probably drunk. The pain and the booze are probably inhibiting his ability to reason and use logic. In this state, Hermione bites her lip, he's as stable as an insulted hippogriff.

Malfoy raises his wand again. Hermione tugs off her shirt and throws it at him. It lands at his feet. As he bends to pick it up he slides off his seat. Hermione dives forward for his wand.

"Don't!" Malfoy howls. Another blast bursts from his wand and hits the ceiling. The room shakes. Hermione falls backwards, eyes wide.

Malfoy pulls another wand from his pockets and uses it to shred Hermione's shirt and bound the strips around his head as makeshift bandages. Squinting in the darkness Hermione can make out that the second wand is Harry's. She sees a third wand poking out from Malfoy's pocket. That one must be hers.

Did Malfoy go back for their wands or did he nick them off of someone else who picked them up? Hermione took comfort in knowing that at least none of the teachers found them, or else she and Harry would be in a lot of trouble.

"Merlin, Granger," Malfoy drawls from where he's sitting on the floor, "when did you grow _those_?"

Hermione follows his gaze down to her chest, flushing, she crosses her arms over her bra. "Fuck off," she growls. Closer now, she can see why he has asked for her shirt. The moron's all dressed up in mesh and leathers and chains. Her shirt was made of cashmere.

Hermione edges backwards, in the direction of the bottle Firewhiskey. Without warning, Malfoy twirls his wand and Hermione is flung sideways. She hits the wall hard, and the room shakes again. Bits of the ceiling rain down. Hermione bites the inside of her mouth to keep herself from cursing a rainbow.

As she sits up she catches Malfoy looking up her skirt. Hermione snaps her legs together. Malfoy smirks. "Learn to wear pants, Granger, or at least roll down your skirt."

But Hermione isn't listening. The dusty old Firewhiskey bottle is rolling towards her. It stops at her thigh.

Hermione seizes it and aims for Malfoy's head. Malfoy ducks, throws his arms up around his head instinctively. The bottle shatters on the wall, spraying them with bits of glass and Firewhiskey. It missed by a mile. But it doesn't matter, Hermione got the distraction she needs.

Malfoy looks up just in time to see Hermione make a grab for the wand in his pocket. Malfoy flicks his wand quickly. Hermione is tossed sideways. She swears furiously, ducking behind an old dusty chair when he sends a second jinx her way. She crawls along the back of the room, behind a clutter of broken furniture as Malfoy sends blasts of light ricocheting off the walls and leaving great black burn marks on the ceiling and the floor.

The walls tremble and bigger chunks of the ceiling fall. One lands on Malfoy's head. Hermione hears his growl and leaps up from her hiding place. She crosses the room in one flying step. Malfoy recovers quickly, raising his wand as she nears. Hermione thinks fast. She slides towards him, letting her momentum carry her, kicking out her legs as she does so. The toe of her boot connects with his fingers. Malfoy drops his wand.

Hermione crashes into him.

It's a flurry of arms and legs and bumping her head on the hard part of his shoulder and the splintered spikes of a table leg digging into her arm. He's swatting at her, cursing, one hand fumbling in his pockets while she accidentally brushes his crotch as she reaches for Harry's wand, then he elbows her in the neck by accident, and she loses sight of the wand.

Finally Malfoy whips out a slender knife and brandishes it at her. "Don't you fucking move-"

But it's too late. Hermione can't suppress her grin as she feels the hard edge of a wand under her fingers.

In the next fraction of a second, Malfoy is out cold.

Hermione disentangles herself and stands shakily. She tugs her wand out of his pocket, sticking Harry's in her waistband.

She steps over him to shrink the table blocking the doorway. A glint of light catches the corner of her eye. Hermione turns to look. Malfoy's knife is lying on the ground.

She bites her lip. Then she picks it up. It's a delicate-looking pocket knife, made of what Hermione suspects to be goblin-wrought silver. The winged snake coiled on the hilt reminds Hermione strongly of Malfoy's stupid basilisk tattoo.

After a moment of hesitation Hermione folds the retractable blade and sticks the knife in her bra, then turns to leave.

She pauses at the door again, and looks back at Malfoy's unconscious form sprawled on the ground. With a sigh, Hermione rolls Malfoy to his side. Her conscience would drive her insane if he chokes on blood or vomit and dies.

"Fucking conscience," she mutters to herself as she climbs over the table and into the hallway.

* * *

**Review, please :)**


	3. Dungeons and Slytherins

**THE AUSTEN EFFECT by: Caisele**

**Dungeons and Slytherins**

Hermione puts her head down in the folds of her arms, too tired to be hungry, even though breakfast smells delicious this morning. She has a sneaking feeling that the house elves knew exactly where most of the senior student body was last night, because golden pancakes dripping with honey and syrup are piled up high as far as the eye can see. You can tell how hung over someone is just by how much pancakes they're wolfing down.

Ron sidles up next to Hermione, pulling a plate towards him as he sits. Harry drops into the seat across from them, sounding as tired as Hermione feels.

"Hey, babe," Ron nuzzles her ear. Hermione looks at him out of the corner of her eyes, too tired to even push him away. "Mmf," she replies.

Under the table Ron has his hand on her knee. His fingers are cold. Hermione considers shifting down the bench.

Just then, in a whirl of colors, Fred and George appear out of nowhere and throw themselves between her and Ron. Fred almost misses the bench and lands hard on Ron's lap, making Ron yelp and drop his fork with a clang. Almost any other time Hermione would be rolling her eyes, but today she's grateful for their interference. The twins are all plaid pants, rainbow wigs, Cheshire grins, and black, metal studded jackets; in short, completely bonkers.

George nods at Harry and Hermione. "Missed you lot last night. Glad to see you're not on the detention list."

Ron's snarl drowns out Harry's reply. "Get off me, Fred!"

Fred makes great loud kissing noises at Ron. "Sorry, Ronnie darling, were you busy?"

Ron growls incoherently in reply. Hermione turns to hide her snort of laughter. George reaches over and swipes Ron's pancake off his plate just as he reaches for it. Ron picks up his fork instead, stabbing it into a sausage violently.

"Has anyone seen Ginny this morning?" Fred looks pointedly at Harry, who shakes his head. "I haven't either," Hermione replies when Fred turns to look at her.

"Well if you see her just tell her to come find us at lunch," George says distractedly, wrinkling his nose at Ron who's got oil dripping down his chin.

Fred scoots off the bench and makes a grand sweeping gesture towards Hermione. "She's all yours," he tells Ron, "fondle away."

Hermione makes a face at Fred. George laughs. Then they're gone as quickly as they've come.

"Come to think of it," Harry says as Ron slides down the bench and puts Fred's suggestion into action with gusto, "I haven't seen Ginny since we were by the edge of the pumpkin patch. Did she get back alright?"

"I didn't see her name on the detention list," Hermione shrugs as Ron snakes a hand around her waist. Hermione sticks out her elbow so he can't snuggle any closer. There's a screech overhead and the owls come fluttering in. A gleaming black feather lands on Hermione's plate. She looks up to see a handsome owl swooping towards her. Hermione ducks. The owl screeches and drops a piece of parchment on her head then soars away. Ron catches the parchment as it falls. "What is it?" Harry asks, interested.

Ron tears it open as Hermione makes a grab for it. "Ron!"

"What?" Ron holds it out of her reach, green eyes gleaming. "Have you got a secret boyfriend I don't know about?"

Hermione crosses her arms with a huff. Ron glances at the note and his eyes go round. "What does it say?" Hermione demands.

"It's a ransom note–"

Hermione's eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

Harry snatches the parchment from between Ron's fingers. "They've got Ginny!" his bemused frown sharpens into an angry scowl.

"Who?" Hermione asks.

"It doesn't say," Harry replies. "They want to trade her for a...knife?"

Hermione feels her heart drop all the way to her feet. Last night, when she made it back to the Gryffindor Tower Harry had already gone to bed and Hermione told Ron a slightly different version of what had happened in the Shrieking Shack, a version that didn't include Malfoy as a reason for her state of undress. She didn't exactly lie; she just let him assume the untrue. She did pay for it though. To put the clincher on her half-lies she had to endure ten minutes of Ron's tongue down her throat while he pulled her skirt up around her waist and stuck his hands inside her thong.

She purposely left out the part about her embarrassing confrontation with Malfoy and, of course, his knife. She doesn't know what made her take it. It just seemed like a good sort of revenge in the heat of the moment. However, Hermione fully planned to slip in back into Malfoy's bag today during Herbology and she doesn't intend for anyone to find out in the meantime.

"They want to do the exchange in the dungeons," Harry reads.

Ron narrows his eyes. "Malfoy."

Hermione assumes her best not-guilty voice. "When?"

Harry looks up. "Now."

Hermione bites her lip. Most people have just arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast. The dungeons will be empty. She meets Harry's eye. Ron throws down his pancake. They stand simultaneously, tripping over the bench to get to the door. Hermione feels the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She glances over her shoulder just in time to catch Snape's eyes flickering down into his goblet.

Hermione catches up to the boys at the far end of the dungeons. Harry motions for her to be quiet and waves her over to where they stand plastered against the stony wall.

Crabbe's grunting snarl echoes from around the corner. "I can do it right now–"

"You won't."

Ron tenses at Malfoy's voice.

"I'll do it if I want."

"No one touches her," Malfoy sounds like he's threatening violence.

Hermione covers her mouth in horror as she realizes who they're referring to. Before she could do anything though, Ron has already launched himself around the corner, shooting curses and swearing at the same time.

There's a howl and then Harry is running up to Ron, shielding him with his own set of spells. Hermione pulls her wand out of her pocket with shaking hands and whirls around the corner. She takes half a second to scan the scene before her. Crabbe has lost his wand and is crouching in a corner, Malfoy and Goyle still don't have their wands out yet, and Ginny lays in the corner, rigid as a corpse, probably Body Bind-ed.

But the thing that stands out to Hermione the most is that Malfoy doesn't look so much like a demented hermaphrodite vampire when he's not wearing his usual leather-mesh bondage gear. He can almost pass as normal in his straight-legged trousers and zipped up hoodie. It's his ugly snakeskin shoes that give him away as completely crazy.

The thought throws her a bit. Then Goyle is sending something red and scorching flying her way. Hermione throws her arms over her face reflexively and screams "Protego!"

The fireball is deflected sideways. It smashes into the dungeon wall. To everyone's shock the stones crack and then crumbles, leaving a great black hole.

Malfoy takes full advantage of the distraction and turns on his heels, bolting down the next corridor. Harry doesn't miss this chance to lob a spell of his own at Goyle.

Goyle hits the wall and bounces off like a rag doll.

Ron whistles. "Way to clean the floor with him, mate."

Harry spares a quick grin before racing off. "I'm going after Malfoy," he says over his shoulder.

"We'll get Ginny out of here," Hermione calls after him as he disappears around a corner.

Turning around, Hermione looks at Ron. "Hoist her up so I can unjinx-" Hermione is cut short as a jet of light whizzes past her. She could feel the heat of the jinx as it missed her nose by a hair's breadth.

"Baby!"

Hermione barely had time to cringe at Ron's cry of warning before she instinctively throws herself onto the cold hard ground. Another jinx flew over her head. She looked up to see Ron reach down for his wand, but he wasn't fast enough. The next jet of light hits him in the chest. Ron falls with a thud. Hermione raises her wand, shouting at the top of her lungs. She's not thinking, not aiming, just sending every jinx she can think of flying in every direction.

Hermione pulls herself into a corner, watching the last of her jinxes ricochet off the dungeon walls and then swallowed by the ground.

Hermione frowns, waiting, breathing hard. There's only silence.

She peeks around the corner. The corridor is empty. Hermione crawls out from her hiding place and makes a beeline for Ginny. She passes the hole Goyle blasted and couldn't resist a peek inside. She can make out a tall, narrow passage caked in dirt. Looking up she spots what looks like plant roots poking through a ceiling of hardened soil. "It's a moat," Hermione mutters to herself.

A sudden movement in her peripheral vision makes her spin around. She barely registered Malfoy's want pointing at her chest before she screamed her counter spell. Malfoy is blasted backwards. Hermione takes a running kick at him and sends his wand flying to the end of the corridor.

Seeing Malfoy and all his bigheaded pride sprawled at her feet does wonders for Hermione. She's never had a power trip before but she reckons this is probably what it feels like. The adrenaline is pounding a steady beat in her eardrums. He's glaring at her and she's returning it with just as much disgust in her glower.

It's not exactly the perfect time for Hermione to notice that his eyes are such an insanely light color that they look transparent. His eyelashes are long too, and no one notices usually because his hair color is so pale. The sun would do him some good; maybe turn his hair darker in places. If there ever was an Ice Queen, Hermione is sure that Malfoy would be her descendant.

"Maybe you should rethink you brilliant plan, Malfoy."

"Just give me by bloody knife back."

"What, this one?" She slides it out of her bra. It's warm to her touch. Hermione flicks out the blade, and, catching Malfoy's eyes, she slowly puts the tip of her wand to the silver hilt, right above the basilisk's crown.

"Granger," Malfoy's tone is threatening but Hermione hears a hint of panic underneath. She grins, bolder now.

"What's the big deal with this anyway?" Hermione twirls the knife about her fingers, watching his ice grey eyes dart towards it then back at her face. He's uneasy. "Was it expensive?" Hermione presses, tapping the silver basilisk with her wand and watching him wince.

Malfoy's lips thin into a line.

"Well, I'm sure you can afford another one," Hermione says, with just a touch of finality in her tone, and folds the blade back into the hilt. She tucks the knife snugly back into her bra.

"It's a family heirloom," Malfoy says loudly.

"Like Tom Riddle's diary, you mean?" Hermione snaps.

Malfoy snaps his mouth shut again, glaring at her, livid.

Shouting echoes down the halls, getting louder and louder. Hermione makes the mistake of looking up as another blast thunders. Malfoy kicks Hermione's feet out from under her. She cries out in surprise as she falls. In the seconds that she's stunned by the pain Malfoy reaches out one hand and his wand flies back into his hand.

He takes the time to smirk at her before he pins her arms down with a flick of his wand.

Malfoy pounces. Hermione curses loudly as Malfoy's knee lands hard on her stomach, keeping her down. He slaps a hand over her mouth, muffling her protests as his other hand tears open the front of her robes. Hermione feels her indignity and anger burning up her neck, staining her cheeks red as Malfoy's warm fingers find the lace of her bra. Hermione glares wide-eyed at him. Sure, she knows he's three quarters bastard and a quarter moron but he's not sleazy. That title is exclusive to Crabbe.

Then his fingers find the knife and Hermione bites her lip, mortified. Of course that's what he was looking for, what was she thinking? His touch makes her boil inside. She can feel the electricity rushing up from the base of her spine and the blood flowing in the veins to her brain.

Hermione looks away when he lets go of her. She sits up, rubbing her wrists and stomach, feeling that her face has never been warmer.

"It's an ancient relic symbolizing loyalty, by the way," Malfoy says haughtily as he tucks the knife into his belt.

Hermione smiles humourlessly. "How very Gryffindor of you."

Malfoy scowls. "Don't be conceited." There is fierceness in the flash of his eyes that Hermione didn't dislike.

As he turns away there's a flash of blinding white light, then he's on the ground yelling at the top of his lungs with his face covered in little black winged things. The Bat-Boogey Hex.

Hermione looks up to see Ginny standing on the other side of the hall with Hermione's wand in her hand.

"Ginny! How did you-"

"The Body Bind wore off," Ginny rolls her eyes. "Trust Goyle to fuck up a jinx that first-years can do with their eyes closed," she snorts. Her eyes flash darkly. "Can't wait till I can get my hands on Crabbe."

Hermione looks at her, alarmed. "Did he do something to-?"

"No," Ginny shrugs. "Harry already blasted Goyle into the next century, and you took care of Malfoy, so it's Crabbe's turn."

Hermione grins.

"I'm gonna pop that bastard like a Christmas cracker," Ginny vows.

* * *

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	4. Moondust

Disclaimer: despite what it may look like, the author does not endorse or recommend the fondling of underaged girls and/or the sniffing of drugs.

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**THE AUSTEN EFFECT by: Caisele**

**Moondust**

It started when Hermione was sitting in the middle of Transfiguration with Ron's hand up her skirt. She was just thinking that the moron had nothing but sex on his brain when he suddenly said, "Let's go to the Quidditch pitch tonight. There's supposed to be a shower of shooting stars." And she thought that maybe there's hope for him after all.

Both of Ron's parents have quite the romantic streak in them and maybe Bill and Ginny aren't the only ones who've inherited some of it. Watching shooting stars on a crisp autumn night with his arms around her neck, and his words warm in her heart – Hermione imagined the night to be a perfect date.

But when they get to the pitch it's freezing cold and windy. Hermione smells rain coming and she hopes to Merlin that she's wrong because neither of them brought their wands. Ron's tugging her along, head down, shoulders hunched, bracing himself against the elements. Hermione's legs are bare and she can almost see her knees turning blue.

"Let's go back," she says, "We can go up to the Astronomy Tower instead."

Ron shakes his head and drags her on. They amble up the Hufflepuff stands and crouch under the bleachers.

"Ron, I'm cold," Hermione complains.

"S'alright, baby," he says, unbuttoning her cardigan. Hermione hesitates a second, wondering if she should stop him. Then he kisses her. He's passionate and smells nice. His arms circle around her and Hermione puts her hands inside his jacket where it's warm. He fumbles with the strings in front of her blouse and kisses down her neck.

Hermione makes a noise deep in her throat when Ron's eager fingers brush against the swell of her breasts. Ron stops and looks up at her. "Blimey, this new?" Ron's pulling at Hermione's bra. Hermione shifts uncomfortably. "Yeah, got it from Wizwreck," she replies. Ron inspects it, interested. "Where are the straps?"

"There are none," Hermione rolls her eyes. "It's a strap-less bra."

"Right. Erm, so how do I take it off?"

"Ron!" Hermione crosses her arms over her chest. "I thought we're out here to watch shooting stars."

"Yeah, well," Ron pulls Hermione's arms apart. "I couldn't exactly say 'Let's go to the Quidditch pitch and get naked' could I?"

Hermione struggles up, pushing Ron off her. "I can't believe you!"

Ron wedges himself between Hermione's knees and slides one hand between her thighs. "Baby, c'mon." His fingertips brush against her, pulling her panties to the side and touching her. Hermione shudders despite herself, biting her lip. What else could she expect from him really? She drops her arms.

Ron hisses and leans down to leave hickies on her collarbone. His other hand manages to unclasp her bra. Hermione suddenly remembers the feeling of Malfoy's fingertip brushing close to her nipple as he retrieved his knife. She flushes red.

"Wow," Ron whispers, cupping her bare breasts in his hands, staring hungrily. Hermione feels her face heat up even more.

Then Ron is sucking at her, licking and moaning in fervor. And soon he's also got two fingers inside of her. Hermione makes a strangled sound.

The pleasure spikes and falls as Ron fumbles and guesses his way around. Then he finds the right place, the right pace, the right everything and Hermione is lost. She squeezes her eyes shut, trying to hold on to every tendril of ecstacy sparked in her.

Then it's gone.

Hermione opens her eyes to darkness.

Ron's wet lips, his hot breath, his fingers inside her, his weight on her leg - all gone. She looks up to see him unbuttoning his pants. "Ron," Hermione groans, exasperated and very, very disappointed. "Gimme a second, baby," Ron mumbles, unzipping his jeans. Hermione scrunches up her face. "What are you doing?"

"Here," Ron's voice is strained as he unceremoniously drops his pants. Hermione backs away from him, aghast. "What are you doing? Ron!"

"Just put your mouth around it."

Hermione looks up at him, shocked. "WHAT?"

Ron moves closer, impatient. "Your mouth, baby."

Hermione has the sudden overwhelming urge to push him off the stands and watch him fall fifty feet to the pitch below. Ron must have misunderstood the glint in her eyes for something very different because he grins and grasps his member around the base then proceeds to press it against Hermione's lips.

Hermione's scream never makes it out of her throat because then Ron suddenly tackles her to the ground. Hermione kicks at him, swearing.

"Shh!" Ron growls, "Snape!"

Hermione freezes and looks up. Snape? Greeeeat. She can almost imagine the look on his face if he walks in on this scene.

But there is no footstep to be heard, nor the rustle of his cloak. Hermione peeks around the bleachers. "Where?" she whispers. Ron points down to the edge of the Quidditch pitch. "There!"

Hermione can spot a dark figure silhouetted against the dimmed lights from the castle's windows. There is no mistaking that quick shuffling walk or that billowing cloak.

"What's he doing?" Hermione eases herself up to her knees, following Snape's figure out of sight. "He's going towards the Forest."

"Who cares?" Ron scoffs, coming up behind Hermione. He slides one hand through the sleeve of her blouse, cupping one breast.

"Stop it, Ron!" Hermione hisses. She crawls around the stands to the other side of the bleachers. Snape has stopped suddenly and slipped into the shadows cast by the castle's towers. "I think he's following someone."

Ron rolls his eyes. "It doesn't matter, babe. Come on!"

Then Hermione catches sight of another figure ahead of Snape heading towards the Whomping Willow. A student, no doubt. The moon inches out from behind a cloud and its light bathe his messy hair in white light.

It's Harry.

Hermione's heart stops.

"He's following Harry!"

Ron makes a loud clang against the bleachers. "What?"

Hermione whirls around, panicking. "He's following Harry! Harry just went into the Whomping Willow! Something must have happened, we have to do something–"

Ron holds out his hands. "Wait, whoa. Hold on. Who went where?"

Hermione pushes him out of the way in frustration. "Come on, Ron. We have to– where's my bra?"

"Uh..."

"Nevermind, fuck." Hermione pats down her skirt and runs for the stairs, lacing up her blouse as she goes. Peeking though the canvas of the stand she sees Snape emerge from his hiding place. By the time she hurtled down the last few steps onto the pitch Snape is long gone.

Ron hasn't followed. Looking up, Hermione can see him atop the stands still, waving her bra in one hand. Moron.

Hermione runs towards the Whomping Willow, shivering in the wind. She tumbles through the dark earthly passage and sprints up the staircase leading into the Shrieking Shack. She sees the back of Snape's cloak and throws herself against the wall, breathing hard, trying to blend in to the wallpaper until he sweeps out of sight, footsteps echoing as he stomps up the stairs.

Hermione tiptoes out into the hallway and down to the cellar. She, Harry, and Ron use the Shrieking Shack as a hideout away from prying ears and eyes. Over the years, after the hours and hours they spend here, the cellar – their favourite place in the whole house - began to accumulate with souvenirs from their visits. There are stolen books from the forbidden section of the library, various items of clothing, lines of empty Firewhiskey bottles, Hermione's makeup removers, Harry's letters from Sirius, boxes of porn that Ron stole from Fred and George and is using to blackmail them with...

If Snape set eyes on the room they would be in so much trouble.

Hermione hurtles into the cellar and almost runs eye-first into Harry's wand. "Hermione!"

Hermione doubles over, panting. "We have to get all of our stuff out of here," she wheezes, "Snape is here."

"Snape?" Harry blanches. "Shit!"

Hermione looks warily at the door. "Why are you here anyway?"

Harry makes a face. "Ginny saw Malfoy heading out of the castle and tipped me off so I followed him."

"What? Malfoy's here? Why?"

Harry says nothing and leads her out to the landing. Hermione gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. Malfoy is sprawled on the floor, barely sitting, face half obscured by his messy hair, legs kicked out, and breathing softly, as if sleeping.

"What's wrong with him?" Hermione prods his leg with the toe of her shoes.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Having an existential crisis, probably."

Hermione spots the shimmering white powder sprinkled on the floor around them. Her jaw drops. "Moondust."

"Hey, what do you know," Harry scrunches up his nose at the powder, "I was right."

"Merlin," Hermione whispers, "I had no idea he's so unhappy. You'd never be able to tell just by looking at him."

"No, I'm pretty sure he's happy," Harry shakes his head solemnly, "so happy that he's bored out of his mind."

"Boredom doesn't make you want to sniff Moondust, depression does." Hermione crosses her arms, skeptical.

"I'm sure stupidity also helps," Harry says. "Come on, let's get our stuff out of here before Snape finds us." He turns and walks away.

"What about Malfoy?" Hermione doesn't move, watching as Malfoy stirs, limbs twitching.

"I can't care less," Harry says over his shoulder.

Hermione bites her lip and runs back to the cellar. She and Harry levitate all their things out of a window and he covers up their tracks by producing a layer of dust with a flick of his wand that covers the floor like a thick carpet. Then they slip out the back door.

As they reach the Quidditch pitch Hermione turns back to look at the Whomping Willow. "What?" Harry asks. Hermione doesn't hear him. She's thinking back to one of Fred and George's infamous parties last year where a Hufflepuff girl got high on Moondust and climbed up onto a table and danced like a goblin in bloodlust until someone knocked her out for her own safety.

"Moondust makes you manic," Hermione mutters, Malfoy's unmoving form etched into her memory, "not sleepy." She turns back to Harry. "What if he overdosed?"

Harry gives her one of his looks. "You mean Malfoy?" he groans, "Don't tell me–"

"We need to go back," Hermione decides, walking briskly. Harry makes a strangled, frustrated noise and follows. "Maybe Snape found him," he suggests.

Hermione shakes her head. "What if he doesn't?"

They enter the Shack with their voices hushed and their ears perked, listening for any sounds of movement. "You go outside and keep a lookout for Snape," Harry whispers, motioning, "and I'll get Malfoy."

They split up and Hermione creeps slowly up to the main floor, closing her eyes and letting her mental map of the house's layout to guide her in the dark.

Slowly, slowly, slowly...

THUMP.

Hermione almost screams. She bumped into something warm and moving. She falls back and lands on her butt, her eyes snapping open. As they adjust to the blackness she makes out the rumpled outline of Malfoy.

His icy eyes seem more alive than she's ever seen them. His smile is lazy, smug. His shoulders are slack, and he's unsteady on his feet. Only now does she realize how absolutely rigid and poised Malfoy usually holds himself. He's always in control, of his polished appearance, of his every sneer and scowl, of his friends, and of his life. Now he just seems sedated, relaxed...vulnerable.

"Malfoy?" Hermione didn't intend to speak so softly.

The corners of his lips tug upwards and he staggers towards her. Hermione leaps up and catches him as he wobbles dangerously. But he's too heavy, and she backs into a wall, her shoulderblades slamming into the dusty, peeling paint.

To her horror, he raises his hands and wraps them around her. Hermione is painfully aware of her bra-less breasts pressing against his hard chest. "Malfoy!" she hisses. He appears deaf as he lowers his head onto her shoulder. Hermione freezes. He nuzzles her, reminding her very strongly of the neighborhood dog she used to play with when she was little.

Then he presses his hips against her.

Hermione imagines the crimson of her cheeks is bright enough to light up the room. There's a bulge against her belly that's definitely not a zipper. Moondust also makes you horny, Hermione remembers a little too late. Then Malfoy's arms loosen around her and one of his hands is sliding down to her butt.

Hermione curls up her fingers, about to sock him right in the teeth, but floorboards creak and Hermione tenses, looking up to see a dim light on the balcony overlooking the front hall where she's standing. Her heart flips and flops in a little mini epileptic episode.

Not Snape, she thinks fervently, not Snape, not Snape...

Malfoy slips one of his legs between Hermione's. She bites her lip, eyes staring intently on the approaching light. Her skirt rides up as he slides his knee up against the wall. Hermione remembers the feeling of Ron's fingers inside her and she's suddenly sweating.

The light dims again. Malfoy puts one hand on her chest. Hermione bites her tongue, eyes still fixed on the balcony. He licks her in the crook of her neck where it joins her shoulder. The light gets brighter again and Hermione feels like crying. Then Malfoy trails his fingers up her arm and ease one of his hands through the hole of her sleeve and touches her nipples. Hermione shakes in a mild spasm, feeling her palms grow sticky with sweat. The floorboards creak loudly again and the light is gone. Hermione waits until the footsteps fade away to silence. Malfoy squeezes her butt. Hermione takes a moment to make sure there is really no one around before she pushes him off her and kicks him as hard as she can between his legs.

Malfoy makes a grunt, an understated protest as the drug has probably dulled his senses, and crumples onto the ground. Hermione swears up a storm and drags him out the front doors by his collar, half suffocating him and not giving a damn.

She hides Malfoy in a bush and crouches next to him, still pink in the face. He's comatose again. Hermione looks up at the Shack, trying to calm her thoughts and will away the unfamiliar and disconcerting ache in her thighs. Her heart slows and the anxiousness seeps in. Here's Malfoy, so where's-

"POTTER!"

Hermione almost falls over at Snape's roar. The house lights up and she sees Harry's silhouettes flashing past a window. He'll be okay, she tells herself. He knows the house better than Snape, he'll make it.

Hermione hooks her elbows under Malfoy's arms and hauls him up, stealing away as fast as she can towards the post office. If Harry gets in trouble because of this then she's going to smash Malfoy's skull in with her dad's aluminium baseball bat.

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	5. Folie à Deux

**THE AUSTEN EFFECT by: Caisele**

**Folie à Deux**

Hermione props up her Ancient Runes textbook on one of Ron's chess set boxes and resign herself to a night of reading. The common room is more or less full, but there's very little conversation. Most of the kids sprawled around the armchairs and tables are sixth and seventh years, feeling the weight of the year's first batch of homework and assignments.

Harry is probably fuming right how, having missed Quidditch practice serving his detention with Dumbledore after the events in the Shrieking Shack. Ron, on the other hand, is probably cleaning the cages of the guinea pigs Professor McGonagall is keeping for the use of her third year Transfiguration class. All because he couldn't help whipping out his wand every time someone makes a snide remark about Hermione. Last month Ron almost suffocated Pansy Parkinson after a silencing spell went wrong. And yesterday he punches Blaise Zabini right under Snape's nose.

Good thing McGonagall stepped in before things got ugly, especially since Snape is still bitter over his inability to get Harry expelled. To be fair, it wasn't for his lack of trying.

Just then, Fred and George burst into the common room, with identical feral grins plastered on their faces.

"Come ye, come all," Fred yells, jumping up onto a table, scattering quills and rolls of parchment. "Come to the biggest party yet! They will be talking about this one for years! The booze will be on the house. Music will be deafening loud. And clothes are completely optional. This is the stuff legends are made of. This is the...It's Friday, Let's Get Smashed Bash!"

The common room erupts in to excited chatter as George throws the invitations into the air like they're confetti and people jump to snatch them out of the air. Hermione rolls her eyes.

"Fred," she calls over the din, "you can't."

Fred turns to face her. "Why not?" he challenges.

"More than twenty students got in trouble after the party you threw last month," Hermione says, "and over a hundred points have been taken from Gryffindor. Ravenclaw had to forfeit their Quidditch match against Slytherin because half of their team was in detention, and–"

"What I hear you saying is that our Halloween Pumpkin Patch Bash was an awesome success," Fred interjects.

"Aw thanks, Hermione," George mock blushes.

Hermione groans in exasperation. "Haven't you two seen the notice McGonagall just handed out? The next person to break curfew is going to be expelled!"

Fred makes a dismissive face. "The notice also said that the next person to get in a fist fight will be expelled, but Ron's still here."

"He's in detention," Hermione corrects.

"And not expelled," Fred concludes.

"Besides," George adds happily, "we've found the perfect place. We'll never get caught."

Hermione crosses her arms, skeptical. "Where?"

"The moat."

"You didn't!" Hermione gasps. "How do you know about the moat?"

George looks smug. "We went down to the dungeons that morning after the party to prepare a little surprise for Snape..."

"Since we _adore_ him so much."

"-And who do we find?"

"That fat Slytherin boy, unconscious and foaming at the mouth. What's his name?"

"Goyle," George says.

Fred grins. "Who did that anyway?"

Hermione bites her tongue to prevent herself from smiling. "Harry."

"Ah," George smirks. "Well we found the hole in the wall pretty soon after and figured out what it was."

Fred cackles evilly. "We managed to patch it up with a dandy little charm before any of the teachers found it."

Hermione shakes her head in disbelief.

George nudges her. "So can we count on you to be there Friday night?"

Before Hermione can shake her head Fred jumps in. "Oh, come on, every one will be there! Harry, Ginny, Ron...kissing Lavender..."

"What?" Hermione snaps.

"What?" Fred echoes, feigning innocence. George points suddenly to the other side of the common room. "Hey, it's Alicia."

"Alicia!" Fred cries, bounding away.

Hermione slams her book shut loudly, pushes back her chair, and marches up to Fred. "I'll tell McGonagall," she threatens.

Fred looks at her, perplexed. "You think she wants to know about who's gonna have her mouth around Ron's mini-Ron on Friday?"

Hermione flushes scarlet. "No, I'm going to tell her about the party. It's against the rules to plan any kind of social gathering exceeding fifty people in the school without the consent of a teacher."

Fred shrugs. "The moat isn't in the school. It's outside."

"No it's n–"

"Prove it."

"Fine. I will."

Hermione turns right around and stomps out of the common room, heading for the library. Stupid Fred, stupid George...stupid Ron, and stupid Lavender. The slut can do whatever the bloody hell she wants to mini-Ron, she can fucking swallow it whole if she wants to because Merlin knows Hermione won't.

Halfway to the library Hermione realizes that it's almost curfew. She pauses indecisively, wondering if Fred would say anything if she goes back right now empty-handed. Just then she notices the Fat Lady walking into a wall-sized painting a little ways down the corridor.

Hermione inches closer to see the Fat Lady blushing and tittering with the gaunt-faced man in the painting. "Oh, my," the Fat Lady is saying, "what a big portrait you have, my dear Duke."

Hermione can hardly believe her ears. She waves her hand at the Fat Lady, "Excuse me, erm-"

"Shh, little girl," the Fat Lady waves her away, "I'm having tea with the Duke."

"But I have to get back to the Gryffindor Tower and I can't if you're here," Hermione says, annoyed.

The Fat Lady's smile is more fixed than before. "Go away," she hisses out of the corner of her mouth.

Hermione throws up her arms in defeat. She looks down at her watch. It'll be three minutes till curfew. Shit. Hermione bites her lip, thinking. Madame Pince will have closed the library already; Hermione can hide out in there until the Fat Lady returns to her portrait.

Hermione unlocks the library doors with her wand and closes it quietly behind her. While she's here she can probably grab a couple of the old Hogwarts rule books to see if she can find something on the moat.

Just as she's heading to the back of the library for the special section on Hogwarts she spots the glow of a lamp out of the corner of her eyes. Hermione freezes for a minute, petrified, before dashing silently into the closet cluster of shelves. She stumbles along the wall blindly, feeling her way around.

Under her fingertips Hermione feels the hard edge of the wooden cubbies where Madame Pince stores the books with the torn pages and broken spines for salvaging later. The cubbies aren't very big but in her panic Hermione reaches for the only thing that could hide her.

She swings open the doors and slide inside, only to find herself face to face with a peeved-looking Draco Malfoy.

"Close the door," he hisses at her, hauling her into the small enclosed space by her hair.

"Ow, leggo!"

"Shh!"

"What are you doing here?"

Malfoy clamps a hand over her mouth, much to Hermione's annoyance. _I'm a prefect_, he mouths at her. Hermione rolls her eyes.

Everything is silent for a moment.

Malfoy's legs are tucked under his body, in a half crouch. Hermione has to step over his knees to cram herself into the cubbie, and as a result ends up semi-straddling him.

"Move your leg," she whispers, pushing him.

"Move your fat ass," he hisses back.

Hermione finds Malfoy's arm and pinches it as hard as she can. He clenches his teeth and glare at her, face turning purple from all the effort it takes to not yelp really loudly. He tries to get her off him by pushing her to the side, but all he ends up doing is rub his knee against a very awkward place. They continue their silent battle for some time, until Hermione's toes hit something hard in the cubbie's corner.

"Careful!" Malfoy says lowly. "It's the only copy they have."

Hermione makes out the outline of a very old book. "What is it?"

Malfoy swats her foot away. "Old NEWT exam booklet. It's for studying."

"You didn't buy one?" Hermione remembers she had to stand in line for two hours at Flourish and Blotts before she could hand her hands on a coveted copy. Soon after she bought it they sold out. But it's hard to imagine Malfoy, who always gets the best of everything – and gets it first too, at that – at the end of that line.

"I did buy one," Malfoy snarls at her, "but I lost it."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Why didn't you get your rich ol' dad to send you a new one instead of sneaking around the library after-hours?"

"Save it. I'm not in the mood for your prejudice."

Hermione blinks. "_I'm_ prejudiced?"

"Yeah. You are. You and your little boyfriends." Malfoy sneers at her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, and here I am thinking that you're the pretentious, bigoted git this whole time."

"I'm not pretentious!"

"But you are a bigot?"

"No more than you are."

This argument is going in circles.

Malfoy isn't done talking yet. "You can't pretend like you don't have that attitude, the holier-than-thou attitude. So you get good grades and the teachers like you, so what? That doesn't make you better than everyone else."

"Are you speaking for everyone at Hogwarts or just you?" Hermione asks sardonically.

Malfoy raises his voice, talking over her. "You see one slice of someone, you see how they are in that one situation with those certain people and you assume they're that way all the time."

"And you?" Hermione is shaking. "What about you? You were judging me before you knew anything about me. You were nasty to me from the beginning all because of some distorted idea you have about Muggle-borns."

Malfoy has nothing to say to that.

Hermione blinks back the tears that have appeared from nowhere. Sniffling, she turns her face away, so he wouldn't see.

"That's what I was taught." Malfoy says finally.

"It doesn't make it right," she snaps.

He lets out a quiet rattling breath. "There comes a time," he says, scrunching up his face as if in pain, "when everyone grows up enough to realize their parents aren't perfect and their ideologies even less so."

Hermione stares at him, shocked.

"I have biases," Malfoy concedes, "but so do you. And neither is any more or less distorted than the other."

Hermione clears her throat. "Fine," she concedes stiffly.

"Fine."

"_Wonderful_." Hermione and Malfoy both jump as the cubbie door swings open. Dumbledore is smiling down at them. He's holding a glowing lantern in one hand and a thick tome in the other. "Now that's done and over with, may I suggest a swift return to your dormitories? Mr. Filch is in a particularly bad mood tonight."

Hermione blushes madly as Malfoy pushes his way past her, stumbling onto the library floors. Then he's running towards the door, only looking back at Hermione briefly before he disappears.

"Thank you." Hermione tries grin apologetically at the Headmaster, but only manage to grimace. She hurries out the doors without another word, feeling, all the while, that she's unable to get rid of the feeling of Malfoy's thighs pressing up against hers.

* * *

Had this chapter lying around for ages and just never got the chance to smooth out the rough edges and make it post-able. Sorry for the long delay, but I'm busy on Fictionpress at the moment. I'll be back eventually. Especially since already I finished writing chapter seven already. Problem is, all I have down for chapter six is the title, so I can't do anything until I can figure it out even though I'm dying to post chapter seven (which just so happens to be one of the chapters that makes this fic M-rated).

So, I'll sign off for now, but keep your eyes open. I have a lot of free time coming up in December.

**Review!**


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